


The One You Call

by Scrawlers



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Gen, M/M, based on chapter 12 of the original manga, discussions of child abuse thanks to Jounouchi's dad, pre-relationship wishshipping therefore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 04:11:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17015478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlers/pseuds/Scrawlers
Summary: Hirutani tried to have Jounouchi killed, and he almost succeeded. But just because the damage inflicted wasn’t permanent, that doesn’t mean that things can just go back to how they used to be.





	The One You Call

**Author's Note:**

> Given that Takahashi portrayed the stun gun incident in the warehouse as straight up electrocution and focused on the voltage rather than the amperage, I’m going to do the same. That said, there is no logical way that Jounouchi would have escaped that incident without at least a trip to the ER, and thus, this fic was born. All information pertaining to his medical care is gleaned from research on the effects of electrocution and do not reflect personal experience, so if there are any inaccuracies, I apologize.
> 
> Anzu’s skills as displayed in the beginning of this fic are based off official art from the manga that looked kind of lifeguard-y to me. And yes, the emergency number in Japan really is 119, that wasn’t just me being cute.
> 
> Lastly, this was written years ago, but since Tumblr is being . . . Tumblr, I'm archiving it here, just in case.

The first thing Yuugi was aware of when he opened his eyes was that he was standing in the middle of a large warehouse.

He recognized it. It was the same warehouse he’d seen when he’d closed his eyes outside in the rain, desperately wishing for the Puzzle to help him find Jounouchi, though at the time it had been nothing more than a hazy image, more of a  _feeling_  or a  _nudge_ in the right direction than something he was actually looking at. He didn’t know what had happened after that. One minute he could feel the rain splashing on his cheeks and soaking his hair, and the next he was standing beneath the warehouse roof, damp but protected from the rain he could still hear pouring outside.

But he didn’t have much time to wonder at that, because as he gained his bearings and took in his surroundings—the metal catwalks that lined the roof, the rusted set of stairs over in the corner—his eyes alighted on a prone body lying on the concrete floor just in front of him, and his heart sprang into his throat.

“Jounouchi-kun!” Yuugi had tried to shout, he did, but Jounouchi’s name left his mouth in a sound closer to a gasp. Yuugi slipped and stumbled as he scrambled across the floor to Jounouchi’s side, but he took advantage of his tilt forward to fall to his knees beside Jounouchi’s body. Jounouchi didn’t stir; his eyes were closed and the rise and fall of his chest was so shallow that as Yuugi desperately clutched at his shirt and shoulder, he wasn’t sure if Jounouchi was actually breathing, or if it was the shaking of his own hands that made it feel that way. He shook Jounouchi, hoping to elicit a response, but none came. “Jounouchi-kun? Hey, wake up . . .”

The Millennium Puzzle felt conspicuously heavy around his neck, and for a moment, Yuugi debated whether or not he should wish on it again—if it could or even  _would_ help him now. But something told him the Puzzle had already done enough, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what it had done, and so he shook Jounouchi again, his fingers curled tightly around the fabric of Jounouchi’s shirt and school jacket. “Hey,” he said again, and now it was  _his voice_  that was shaking, and his throat that felt constricted, the life strangled out of his words. “Wake up—open your eyes! Please, please wake up . . .”

There was no change, and no sound other than the rain outside and his own voice. Yuugi’s teeth clamped down over his bottom lip, and though he could feel the sting of tears building in his eyes, he refused to blink or look away. What he could he do? Jounouchi was breathing, he thought—he refused to say otherwise, refused to  _think_  otherwise—but he had no idea what to do to wake him, and no way to call for help. He didn’t have a cell phone—his grandpa thought cell phones were gratuitous technology and his mother refused to buy him one unless he could get his grades up—but it wasn’t like he could  _leave_ Jounouchi here alone while he left to try and find help—

“ _Yuugi!_ Jounouchi!”

Not unlike being stuck outside at the start of a pulse storm, Yuugi felt relief drench every part of him at the voices and footsteps that sounded from the broken wall of the warehouse. He looked over his shoulder to see both Honda and Anzu sprinting toward them, Honda’s eyes bugged with fear, Anzu’s fingers tense around the strap of her bag.

“Honda-kun! Anzu . . .” Yuugi’s shoulders slumped as the tension left his body, though he still didn’t pull his hands away from Jounouchi. He couldn’t bring himself to let go.

“Is he okay?” Honda asked, and his voice bled together with Anzu’s as she said, “At least  _you’re_ not hurt.” Both of them stopped a few paces away from Yuugi and Jounouchi, and while Anzu met Yuugi’s eyes, Honda’s eyes were fixed on Jounouchi’s still form. Yuugi licked his lips, unsure how to answer Honda’s question.

“I—”

He almost missed it due to the sound clatter of rain on the roof and his own voice, but a soft groan interrupted his response. Once again, Yuugi felt his pulse in his throat as he looked over at Jounouchi, and this time the relief that flooded him was highlighted with joy as he saw Jounouchi slowly open his eyes.

“Jounouchi-kun!” Yuugi was barely aware of Honda and Anzu stepping closer, so intent was he on watching as Jounouchi turned unfocused eyes on him.

Jounouchi blinked slowly at him, his expression vague, and for a second Yuugi wondered if perhaps Jounouchi couldn’t see—or didn’t recognize—him. But after another dazed blink, Jounouchi’s lips parted and formed the first syllable of Yuugi’s name in a voice so hoarse it almost sounded like a sigh.

Tears burned once more in Yuugi’s eyes, but as they joined the rainwater on his cheeks, they slipped past a smile so wide it almost hurt.

“Jounouchi-kun,” Yuugi said, and the fact that he could say that name—that he could say that name, and Jounouchi could hear him, and  _everything was going to be okay_ —felt like the only thing that mattered in the world right then. “Let’s go home.”

Jounouchi stared at him for a second more, as if puzzling together what Yuugi had said, before his features twisted in a grimace of obvious distress. Yuugi opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but before he could Jounouchi pushed himself up in a half-seated position, a pained hiss escaping clenched teeth as he gripped Yuugi’s shoulders.

“ _Yuugi_! I—I’m sorry,” Jounouchi gasped, his head bowed, his eyes squeezed shut. He was shaking, but whether it was from pain or something else, Yuugi couldn’t tell. “I’m s-so sorry—”

“It’s okay,” Yuugi said, and he placed his hands over Jounouchi’s wrists and gave them a comforting squeeze. Jounouchi shook his head. “It’s not your fault—”

“You—you got—and it’s all—‘m sorry, I’m sorry you—”

“It wasn’t your fault, I don’t blame you—”

Jounouchi opened his mouth to say something else—another apology, maybe—but whatever it was, he didn’t manage it. His words choked off in another gasp and several hacking coughs as a vicious tremor rocked through his body. Behind him, Yuugi heard Anzu rummage in her purse.

“I’m going to call 119,” she said, and Yuugi looked over his shoulder to nod in acknowledgement as she flipped her phone open and started to pace away. He turned back to Jounouchi—to see how he was doing, and reiterate that Jounouchi had nothing to apologize for—in time for Jounouchi’s fingers to go slack, and his body to slump against Yuugi’s.

“Jounouchi-kun?” Yuugi said, alarm nudging his voice up a pitch. He shifted his hands from Jounouchi’s wrists to his shoulders, and gave him a little shake as Honda looped around to crouch by Jounouchi’s other side. “Jounouchi-kun? Hey, Jounouchi-kun!”

“Here, let me . . .” Honda’s voice trailed off as he gently pulled Jounouchi away from Yuugi to lay him back on the warehouse floor. Jounouchi’s muscles still rippled with little spasms; his entire body trembled beneath Yuugi’s fingers.

In an attempt to divert his attention from the fear that was once again making his heart beat just as viciously against his ribcage, Yuugi looked to Honda, who stared at Jounouchi with a locked jaw. “He’s—he’s going to be okay, right?”

“I don’t know,” Honda said shortly, though Yuugi could tell it was agitation borne more out of worry than anger. “I’m not a doctor.” Honda took a deep, shaking breath, and scrubbed his hand over his face. “Shit, I just wish we had gotten here sooner. If I had known . . . I should have followed—”

“You couldn’t have known,” Yuugi said quietly. “It’s not your fault, either.”

“Yeah, well.” Honda looked back down at Jounouchi, and touched his fingers lightly to either side of Jounouchi’s head. After a second, his brow furrowed, and the look in his eyes sent another jolt of panic to Yuugi’s heart. “Hey, is he—Jounouchi? Jounouchi!”

“What? What is it?” Yuugi’s eyes flicked from Honda’s face, to Jounouchi, and back again. Honda’s eyes met his only briefly.

“He’s not breathing.”

“What?” Yuugi looked back at Jounouchi, and maybe it was the fact that the word  _no_ was the only thing he could think of—a steady, frantic mantra of  _nononono_ —but for a lack of anything else to do, he shook Jounouchi again, hoping to wake him up, to shake him into breathing— _anything._

“Here, move—Honda, take this, talk to them—” Anzu had run back to them, and Yuugi looked up in time to see Anzu shove her cell phone into Honda’s hands before she gave Yuugi’s shoulder a nudge to move him out of the way. He scrambled over to sit by Jounouchi’s feet as Honda lifted Anzu’s cell phone to his ear (despite the fact that he was still staring blankly at her).

“Anzu, what are you—”

“CPR,” she said, and leaned down over Jounouchi’s mouth for a moment, listening. “I had training at my neighborhood’s swim club. I can keep him breathing until the ambulance gets here.” She sat up, laced her fingers together over Jounouchi’s chest, and started chest compressions with more strength than Yuugi would have expected from her. As she did, she shot Honda an irritated look. “Keep talking,” she snapped. “Keep them informed!”

“Right.” Honda cleared his throat and turned his attention to the emergency crew on the other end of the line. “Yes, he stopped breathing, our friend is doing CPR . . .”

As Honda spoke to the emergency operators, Yuugi watched Anzu perform CPR. She alternated chest compressions with two breaths into Jounouchi’s mouth. She kept a steady, rhythmic pace, and Yuugi found himself tapping his fingers against the warehouse floor in time with Anzu’s chest compressions, keeping the beat even when she pulled back to breathe more air into Jounouchi’s lungs. It was going to be fine, Yuugi knew. Everything was going to be fine. But as Yuugi watched Anzu work, he felt a crushing weight in his chest that he knew was only partially due to the fear that made his limbs feel like jelly. It was hard to watch, he realized. It was hard to watch as Honda talked to the emergency operators, and Anzu actively worked to keep Jounouchi alive. It was hard to sit there and be able to do nothing but  _watch_.

It took too long for the ambulance to arrive, by Yuugi’s estimation, but when it finally did, the emergency crews wasted no time rushing in. Several of them ran ahead, and Yuugi, Anzu, and Honda all hastened back to give them space to work, while another two wheeled a gurney in. As several of the EMTs took note of Jounouchi’s condition and lifted him onto the gurney, one of them turned to Yuugi, Honda, and Anzu.

“Do any of you know precisely what happened here?” he asked, and his scrutinizing eyes looked to each of them in turn. Honda and Anzu shook their heads.

“He was unconscious when we got here,” Anzu said. She was still breathless from her bout of CPR. “He was shaking like crazy, though . . .”

“I think it might have been electrocution,” Yuugi said, and he felt Anzu and Honda both look at him, though he kept his eyes on the EMT. He wasn’t entirely sure himself how he knew that, but the Millennium Puzzle felt a little warmer beneath his fingers and he was sure he was right. “I think he was shocked by something, but he was unconscious when I got here, too. I only got here a little bit before they did.”

The EMT nodded, though Yuugi wasn’t sure if he looked unhappy because of the source of Jounouchi’s condition or because of how little information Yuugi could give him. “Okay, thank you. Are any of you immediate family?”

“I am,” Honda said, and his expression was defiant in the face of the EMT’s skepticism. “He’s my brother.”

“Mm.” Whether it was because of Honda’s defiant look or because they were short on time, the EMT didn’t argue and instead started toward the door of the warehouse, where the rest of the emergency crew was already wheeling Jounouchi. Honda, Yuugi, and Anzu followed along behind him, and it was all Yuugi could do to keep himself from jogging to match pace with the EMT. “You can ride along, then. I’m sorry,” he said, and looked back at Yuugi and Anzu, “but you two will have to stay behind.”

“That’s fine,” Anzu said, before Yuugi could speak up. She seemed to sense his distress, for as they walked she placed her hands on his shoulders and gave him a comforting squeeze. “Which hospital are you taking him to?”

“Domino General,” the EMT said, as they stepped through the warehouse door out into the open air outside. By now the rain worn itself into a weak drizzle, and Anzu gently pulled Yuugi to stop before he could follow Honda and the EMT into the back of the ambulance. He knew he couldn’t, that he wasn’t supposed to, but—

“Right. We’ll meet you there,” Anzu said. “Honda, call us if there’s any change before we get there, okay?”

Honda paused, one leg in the ambulance, and looked over at Anzu with a nod. “You got it.”

Honda’s eyes shifted to Yuugi, then, and he pressed his lips together, as though he was debating whether or not he should say something. Whatever was on his mind, the moment passed; the EMT said something from within the ambulance—Yuugi wasn’t sure what—and Honda nodded before he hopped the rest of the way in, the EMT swinging the doors shut behind him. The ambulance had started moving even before the doors were shut, but once they closed, it tore away from them, sirens blaring, and Yuugi and Anzu watched it until it sped out of sight.

It was fine, Yuugi knew. They needed to get Jounouchi to the hospital as quickly as possible, and it was fine that Honda was the one to ride with him. Honda had known him the longest, was the closest one to him, and maybe that was why Honda could help in all the ways Yuugi was unable to. Yuugi swallowed, and curled his fingers in a tight grip around the Millennium Puzzle.

It was fine, and he had no reason to feel the way he did, but that didn’t ease the cold, crushing feeling of useless from building in his chest all the same.

Anzu walked around so that she stood in front of him, her hands still on his shoulders. It was only then that Yuugi looked up to meet her eyes, and Anzu gave him a comforting smile.

“It’s okay,” she said. “We can meet them there. They probably won’t let us see him right away, but they probably won’t let Honda into the treatment room either, especially once they figure out he was lying.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling. Once they ask for Jounouchi’s information they’ll find out the truth.”

“Yeah,” Yuugi said. Anzu was quiet a moment before she squeezed his shoulder again, and then reached down to take his hand.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get going. If we hurry, we can still catch the next train.”

**\- - -**

As Anzu had predicted, the hospital found out that Honda wasn’t actually related to Jounouchi quickly enough, once he started filling out Jounouchi’s medical forms and could provide nothing beyond Jounouchi’s name, address, birthday, the fact that he was signed up for National Health Insurance (though Honda didn’t know his policy number), and that Jounouchi’s family’s annual income was low. By the time Anzu and Yuugi had arrived, Honda was on the receiving end of a stern lecture from the chief of medicine for his lie, which ended on a threat to call either his parents or the cops.

“Is it really that big of a deal?” Honda had cried, as the chief of medicine glared at him through rectangular glasses. “It’s not like he has anyone else, and I really am—I’m as good  _as_ his brother!”

In the end, the chief of medicine didn’t bother to call Honda’s parents (much to Honda’s relief), though Yuugi figured that likely had more to do with how busy he was rather than because Honda made a convincing argument.

They weren’t able to see Jounouchi that night, and for the next three weeks, visitation was spotty. It wasn’t for lack of trying; Yuugi stopped by the hospital every day after school, and Anzu and Honda did as well on days that Anzu didn’t have work and Honda wasn’t expected to babysit his nephew. But for the first three weeks of his hospital stay Jounouchi was kept in the intensive care unit to monitor his progress (primarily his “respiratory and cardio systems,” the doctors had said), and even when they were allowed in to see him (one at a time), he spent much of the following weeks slipping in and out of sleep.

By the fourth week, he was looking much better. He was able to sit up and talk, his eyes looked brighter, and he was already complaining about the fact that they were keeping him in the hospital even though he’d already regained consciousness, although he complained considerably less when Honda reminded him that he had a mountain of homework waiting for him when he was well enough to complete it. (In truth, Yuugi, Honda, and Anzu were helping complete some of Jounouchi’s work for him, for even though the school was understanding about the fact that he was in the hospital after they’d provided a doctor’s note for him, he was still expected to complete his coursework, or he wouldn’t graduate. Even so, Honda reasoned, they didn’t have to let  _Jounouchi_ know they were doing some of his work for him. He could stew on the impending doom of schoolwork for a while if it meant convincing him to stay and heal in the hospital for as long as he needed to.)

By the fifth week, when Jounouchi’s ribs—which had been fractured by Anzu’s CPR (something Jounouchi jokingly said he  _guessed_ he could forgive her for, given that she’d saved his life and all)—had almost healed, the doctors felt comfortable moving him out of the ICU down to a general ward. There he was still hooked up to heart monitors and IVs, but he at least didn’t need to be kept on constant respiratory watch.

All in all, by his fifth week in the hospital Jounouchi had made considerable progress in terms of recovery, and so Yuugi finally felt comfortable enough to ask Jounouchi about his father.

In the past five weeks, Jounouchi’s father had not visited the hospital once. Yuugi knew—he checked. Every day when he visited he asked if anyone else had visited while he was gone, and while sometimes the nurses told him that Honda or Anzu stopped by, not once did they mention Jounouchi’s father. Jounouchi’s father knew, Yuugi thought; Honda had said that he was going to bite the bullet and stop by the apartment again to tell him.

“Not sure if he’ll listen, but . . . well, he did seem upset Jounouchi was gone for two days, right?” Honda had said.  “Maybe this’ll ease his mind. If he thinks Jounouchi’s been in the hospital all this time, he might not even be mad when Jounouchi finally comes home.”

It was an optimistic outlook, but then, Yuugi had always tried to be an optimistic person, and so he made himself believe that the beer bottle that had shattered against the apartment door had been a one-off occurrence. It would be all right, Yuugi thought. Once Jounouchi’s father heard that his son was in the hospital, surely he would come down to see him. He’d apologize for throwing the beer, maybe say that he thought it was someone  _else_ coming through the door, and  _not_ Jounouchi . . .

But he never showed. Five weeks, and he didn’t visit  _once_ , and that . . . that was what convinced Yuugi that, however nervous he felt about broaching the subject, it was time to talk about it.

When he visited that afternoon, the nurses waved him through like always. By now, they’d grown used to Yuugi dropping in every day, sometimes  _multiple_ times a day if it was a Sunday and he had to break up his leisure time with errands. When he entered Jounouchi’s room, he found Jounouchi watching one of the game shows that often ran in the afternoon. On screen, three contestants stood on narrow platforms suspended above an apparent chasm while they tried to guess the answers to riddles, with their platforms retracting into the wall with every wrong answer they gave.

“This one again?” Yuugi said, by way of greeting. Jounouchi, who had looked like he was torn between frustration and disgust as he watched the game show unfold, turned and smiled broadly when he saw Yuugi enter the room.

“It’s the only one on right now,” he said. “Not that it’s any good. It’s like these guys aren’t even trying!” Jounouchi lifted one hand to gesture at the television screen. “It’s so easy I don’t know how they fail. Bet I could do it. Maybe I should apply to play.”

“Maybe you should,” Yuugi said, and despite the impending conversation, he couldn’t help but smile himself. It was nice to hear Jounouchi complain about daytime game shows, and even better to imagine him actually  _being_ on one. Yuugi had no doubt that Jounouchi could win if he tried, but the brighter aspect of that idea was the fact that, soon enough, he would be well enough  _to_ try. He pulled up his usual chair by Jounouchi’s bedside and dropped his book bag to the floor, which Jounouchi eyed with distaste.

“How’s school?” he asked, a bit too casually for it to be natural. “Is, uh . . . exam prep is coming up soon, right?”

Yuugi grimaced. “Yeah, they’re already talking about it. Mom, too. I don’t know why, exams are  _months_  away . . .”

“Unfortunately,” Jounouchi said, and when Yuugi raised his eyebrows in question added, “It’s too bad they can’t be right now, you know? Being in here sucks, but it’d be at least a little better if I could miss exams while I’m here.”

“You’d just have to make them up later,” Yuugi pointed out, and Jounouchi’s mouth tugged into a more pronounced frown as he realized Yuugi was right. Yuugi forced a smile for both their sakes. “But hey, this just means we can suffer through exams together, right? At least we won’t be taking them alone.”

Jounouchi smiled, and relaxed a little against his pillows. “Yeah,” he said. “You bet.”

They lapsed into silence, then, and Yuugi ran his fingers along the grooves in the Millennium Puzzle as he looked up at the TV. By now, one of the contestants had already fallen into the chasm, while the other two desperately clung to the wall with the plungers they’d been given at the start of the game. Yuugi was fairly certain the chasm wasn’t real, that it was just a green screen, but the contestants did a good job of pretending they were terrified all the same. Yuugi tapped his fingers against the side of the Puzzle. Even if their fear was as fake as the chasm beneath them, he could still understand how they were feeling.

“Hey, Yuugi.” Yuugi jumped a little and looked back at Jounouchi, who was staring at him with the same sort of suspicious look he gave particularly challenging cabinets at the arcade. “Got something on your mind?”

Yuugi’s fingers squeezed the Millennium Puzzle a little tighter, and he felt his pulse jump in his throat. Jounouchi’s eyes remained fixed on Yuugi, though his eyebrows quirked up the tiniest bit to let Yuugi know that Jounouchi had noticed. “Uh, well,” Yuugi began, and he cleared his throat to try and stop his voice from cracking due to his nerves. “Not—not  _really_ , but there was something I kind of . . . I mean, if you’re feeling better . . .”

“I feel fine,” Jounouchi said, and that was what Jounouchi  _had_ been saying practically since he woke up in the ICU in the vain hope that the doctors would discharge him early, though Yuugi knew this time it was at least partially (if not mostly) true. Yuugi’s desire to stave off the impending conversation must have shown in his face, for Jounouchi pushed herself up into a more upright position against his pillows as if to prove his point, though even he couldn’t hide the wince that crossed his face when he jostled his still healing ribs. “See?” he said, as if in defiance of it. “I’m fine. So what’s up?”

“Well,” Yuugi said, and then stopped short. He didn’t even know where to begin. Did he start with their visit to Jounouchi’s apartment? Did he ask if Jounouchi’s father had been by, even though Yuugi knew that he hadn’t? For a moment, all he could think of to do was to tap his fingers against the Millennium Puzzle, as if it could somehow give him the words he lacked. When it didn’t (and of course it didn’t) he said, “There’s . . . um, there’s actually something I wanted to . . . ask you about. Or, well—something I wanted to talk to you about. Kind of.”

“Kind of?” Jounouchi repeated, and he sounded amused. Yuugi nodded, gnawing on his lower lip, and Jounouchi muted the volume on the TV before he said, “Come on, Yuugi, you know you can tell me anything. I’ll do whatever I can to help you, so spit it out.”

“It’s not me who needs help,” Yuugi muttered, before he could help it. Jounouchi blinked, and his brow furrowed in confusion, but before he could question what Yuugi had said, Yuugi blurted the first words that came to mind. Maybe it was best if he just got it over with quickly, like ripping off a bandage. “Okay, well, it’s just that, when we were looking for you, the first place we checked was—we went to your apartment.”

There. Bandage ripped. Yuugi waited, and for a long moment the only sound in the room was the steady beeping of Jounouchi’s heart monitor. All traces of a smile were gone from Jounouchi’s face. He stared at Yuugi, his expression uncomprehending, and when he finally broke the silence he simply said, “What.”

“You weren’t at school,” Yuugi said, and Jounouchi continued to stare at him, only now Yuugi could see the realization dawning in Jounouchi’s eyes that this wasn’t a joke, or a dream, or a lie. It was realization tinged with panic, Yuugi thought. Jounouchi’s breathing was shallower than it had been before, quicker, his eyes wide and the muscles in his jaw taut. Yuugi hastily continued. “We didn’t know where you were, or how to contact you, so we decided to look, and Honda-kun said he knew where you lived—”

“Honda took you there?” Jounouchi asked sharply. The panic in Jounouchi’s expression was overtaken by sudden fury—his eyes looked darker than Yuugi had ever seen them—and when Yuugi nodded, Jounouchi nodded in response, his eyes narrowed. “Right. Okay.” Without any sort of warning, Jounouchi reached over and grabbed the wires strapped to his arm in a tight fist.

“Jounouchi-kun?! What are you doing?!” Yuugi cried. He jumped up from his chair and threw himself halfway onto the bed, his fingers wrapping around Jounouchi’s wrist in as tight of a grip as he could manage. Jounouchi jerked as if to instinctively throw Yuugi off him, but he restrained the impulse in the same second and stilled, his entire body tense beneath Yuugi’s weight. Whether he was at risk of being thrown off or not (and Yuugi didn’t think he was, not now that Jounouchi had controlled his reflex), Yuugi decided it didn’t matter. Until Jounouchi released the grip on the wires he had hooked to his arm, Yuugi wasn’t going to let him go. Jounouchi looked over and fixed Yuugi with a hard stare.

“I’m going to go kill Honda,” he said flatly, “but I can’t do that if I’m still hooked to these stupid machines, so I’m unplugging these first.”

“You can’t do that, you  _need_ those,” Yuugi said, and Jounouchi scoffed. “The doctors said you’ll be out soon, but you’re still healing. You shouldn’t be fighting anyone right now, and besides, Honda-kun hasn’t done anything wrong—”

“He took you and Anzu to my dad’s place,” Jounouchi growled. “That’s about as wrong as he can get, and he knew—he  _knows_ better, he  _knows_ better than to do something like—!”

“I don’t think he did,” Yuugi said, and Jounouchi gave him a skeptical look. “At least, he seemed surprised . . . he said he thought your family worked during the day . . .”

Jounouchi snorted. “My old man? Work? Heh, that’s funny. Honda should look into becoming a comedian.”

Jounouchi looked no less upset than before, but he’d relaxed a little under Yuugi’s hold, and just enough tension left his body that Yuugi felt comfortable enough to cautiously pull his hand away. As he released Jounouchi’s wrist, Jounouchi released the grip he had on the wires hooked into his arm. Yuugi settled back down in his chair, his fingers running over the smooth gold of the Millennium Puzzle.

“Well, he seemed serious when he said it,” Yuugi said. He looked down at the Millennium Puzzle again, and brushed his thumbnail against the loop on top. “He seemed genuinely surprised when he realized your front door was unlocked. I really don’t think he meant anything bad by—”

“Did he hurt you?”

“Huh?” Yuugi looked up, confused, to see that Jounouchi was looking at him again. “What? No. Honda-kun wouldn’t—”

“No, not Honda,” Jounouchi said, and he waved his hand dismissively in the air. “My dad. Did he hurt you?”

Jounouchi’s stare was intense. Before, when he’d felt apparent rage upon learning what Honda had done, he’d looked wild. Now his stare burned, but it was a quieter, more ferocious intensity than Yuugi was used to seeing from his best friend. Yuugi shook his head.

“Oh, no. He didn’t,” he said, and Jounouchi relaxed, sinking back into his pillows. Yuugi ran his fingers along the grooves in the Millennium Puzzle, and after a moment of warring with himself over whether or not he should press the issue he asked, “Does . . . does he hurt  _you_?”

Jounouchi shrugged. He was looking at the television again, though Yuugi knew he wasn’t really watching it. Yuugi looked back down at his Puzzle, at the way light glinted off the corner, and drew strength from it before he pressed on.

“When we went by your place,” he said, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Jounouchi lock his jaw, “he thought we were you at first. Well, actually, I guess he never really learned we  _weren’t_  . . . but anyway, he thought it was you when Honda-kun opened the door, and he . . . um, he wasn’t exactly happy.” Still Jounouchi was quiet, and so Yuugi added, “He actually . . . threw a bottle at the doorway.”

“It didn’t hit you, right?” Jounouchi asked, and he glanced over at Yuugi. When Yuugi shook his head, Jounouchi looked relieved. “Good.”

“Like I said, Honda-kun was the one who opened the door—he was standing in front of me and Anzu. And he shut the door pretty quickly when your dad threw the bottle, so it hit the door instead of him. But still, your dad—he thought we were you. And he didn’t even wait, he didn’t ask questions or say—well, anything, really, before he threw the bottle. He just threw it, first thing.” Jounouchi kept quiet, and Yuugi scuffed the floor with his shoe. “So I was just wondering . . . has that . . . happened before? Is it normal?”

“Depends. Usually he’s passed out when I get home so it doesn’t matter.” Jounouchi turned his eyes to the ceiling. “Hm. Did he say anything after he threw it?”

“He, um, said you hadn’t been home in two days,” Yuugi said, and he couldn’t help but feel a little disturbed with how casually Jounouchi seemed to be considering the situation now that he knew Yuugi hadn’t been hurt.

“Oh. Yeah, that explains it.” Jounouchi laughed a little, but it sounded forced. He reached one hand up and ran it through his hair. “I used to be gone a lot more often than I am nowadays. Haven’t skipped out for days at a time in a while, so he probably freaked and thought I was ditching out again. We got bills, you know. Can’t go running off like that, so it probably pissed him off.”

“That doesn’t mean he has to throw things at you,” Yuugi said, and Jounouchi merely shrugged again as if to say,  _‘yeah, well.’_ “Does he . . . so that’s normal, then, right?” Jounouchi gave no answer, and after a moment of hesitation Yuugi said, “Honda-kun said that . . . your dad’s been like that for a long time.”

“He did, huh?” Jounouchi asked, and Yuugi could hear the undercurrent of anger in Jounouchi’s mild tone. He made a mental note to apologize to Honda later. “Well, whatever Honda said, you don’t have to worry about it, okay? I’m fine. It doesn’t matter.”

“Wha—yes it does,” Yuugi said, and as appalled as he felt at Jounouchi’s dismissal, he felt a thread of resignation all the same. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of happening the moment Jounouchi’s anger faded into nonchalance. “It matters a lot. If he’s—”

“It really doesn’t,” Jounouchi said, and Yuugi bit back his childish response of  _‘yes it does_ ’ in order to let Jounouchi talk. “It’s not a big deal, okay? I mean, yeah—my dad’s a deadbeat, sure. He won’t work. But I do—I’ve got it under control, and we— _I_  manage. Although, that said, that reminds me . . .” Jounouchi frowned. “I’ve been in here awhile. Wonder if Honda thought to let my bosses know. And actually, come to think of it, there’s no way my old man would be able to handle the rent  _and_ the bills  _and_ his booze with just the government checks, so I wonder if we have any eviction notices by now . . .”

“That’s . . .” Worrisome, was what Yuugi wanted to say, but he had a feeling Jounouchi was trying to change the subject, and Yuugi wasn’t inclined to let him do it. “I’m not really . . . talking about that right now. Or not that exactly, anyway. What I’m trying to say is, your dad—”

“He hasn’t exactly been the best dad, yeah,” Jounouchi said. “Or even a good one, but so what? It’s not like I’ve been a good kid, either. It evens out.”

“No it doesn’t,” Yuugi said, and he couldn’t stop his voice from rising a little in frustration from both Jounouchi’s repeated interruptions and insistent dismissals. “No matter what you do, it doesn’t mean it’s okay if your dad hurts you, and besides, you’ve been great—”

Jounouchi huffed an incredulous laugh, but it lacked his usual humor. “Seriously?” he said.

Yuugi frowned. “What?”

“After everything you saw—everything that happened a month ago, everything that led to this—” Jounouchi gestured with one hand at the hospital room around them, “—you’re seriously going to sit there and say I’ve been  _great_?”

“Well—you’ve made some mistakes,” Yuugi said, and Jounouchi snorted, “but that still doesn’t mean your dad has a right to hurt you. That doesn’t make it okay, especially since you’ve changed since then. You don’t do that stuff anymore. And even if you did, he still shouldn’t throw things at you, or hit you, or—or whatever it is he does.” Yuugi kicked his foot against the leg of his chair. “He’s your dad.”

“You’re right. He is,” Jounouchi said, and Yuugi looked up to see that Jounouchi was looking at him with a dead serious expression again. Yuugi sat up a little straighter. “Which means he’s my problem. For me to deal with. So you don’t have to worry about it, okay?”

“I do though,” Yuugi said, and Jounouchi sighed and dropped his head back against his pillows, staring at the ceiling. “Especially now. I had no idea before, but—”

“And you still wouldn’t if Honda hadn’t been a stupid enough asshole to take you there,” Jounouchi said. “I swear, when I get out of here I’m gonna—”

“I’m glad he did,” Yuugi said, and Jounouchi gave him a sharp look. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that, but especially not alone.”

“I especially  _have_ to deal with it alone. It’s my problem, okay? My life, my problem, and I can handle it, so you need to stay out of it.” Before Yuugi could protest, Jounouchi cut across him again. “Look, Yuugi—I get what you’re trying to do, and I appreciate it. But I got this, okay? And even if I didn’t, I—it’s not—it’s not something you need to get involved with. Not something anyone does, but especially not you.”

Yuugi opened his mouth to say something—anything—in defense of himself, but no sound came out. Instead he swallowed, and dropped his eyes to the Millennium Puzzle again. It was stupid, he thought, because he wasn’t the one in trouble here, this wasn’t  _about_ him, but somehow he felt the same sense of crushing weight in his chest that he had back in the warehouse weeks ago, when he’d been unable to help Jounouchi where the others could. The room felt warmer than it had a few moments ago, uncomfortably so, and Yuugi’s hands started to shake a little as he squeezed the Puzzle and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, and he couldn’t get his voice louder than a whisper. “I know I—I shouldn’t push, and I know there’s not a lot I can do, anyway. You don’t really have any reason to trust me. But I—”

“Wait, what?” Jounouchi asked, and Yuugi chanced a glance up to see that Jounouchi was frowning at him. “What are you talking about?”

“We haven’t been friends for very long, and I know I’m not the most reliable person, I guess,” Yuugi said. He dug his thumbnail into one of the Puzzle’s grooves, though he was careful not to loosen the pieces. “And I’m lucky that we’re friends anyway, so I shouldn’t push it, especially if you don’t feel comfortable with me knowing all of this. But I still—”

“Whoa, okay, Yuugi, stop. Time out, okay?” Jounouchi raised his hands in a time out gesture, and Yuugi pressed his lips together, watching him. When Jounouchi seemed sure that Yuugi wasn’t going to continue, he huffed another breathless laugh, and scrubbed his hand down his face. “You know,” he said dryly, “for someone who was smart enough to figure out that Puzzle so fast, I don’t think you could have missed the point on this any harder if you tried.”

If he wasn’t so confused by what Jounouchi was saying, Yuugi might have pointed out that eight years wasn’t exactly fast. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—look. Yuugi. My dad’s not—he’s not exactly a— _good guy_ , you know?” Jounouchi looked at him again, and for the first time that afternoon, his expression was a bit softer—less guarded. “He’s not . . .  _Hirutani_ bad, but he’s still . . . not good, or safe. And I don’t want you around that, because . . .” Jounouchi looked down at his side, and twisted his fingers around his bedsheet. “As hard as it is to believe, I don’t want you to get hurt. I’m trying to keep you safe, here.” Jounouchi smiled without humor. “I suck at it, but I’m trying.”

“You don’t suck at it,” Yuugi said, and his heart felt three times lighter, the knowledge that Jounouchi  _did_ trust him, and  _didn’t_ see him as completely useless lessening the pressure in his chest. “And I believe you. It’s not hard to believe at all.”

Jounouchi gave him a bemused look. “Seriously?” When Yuugi nodded, Jounouchi shook his head. “Weird. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to hear it, but considering everything I’ve done that says otherwise . . .”

“You haven’t done anything that says otherwise,” Yuugi said, and before Jounouchi could voice the skepticism that was plain on his face, he continued. “But it goes both ways, Jounouchi-kun. I don’t want you to get hurt either, and with your dad the way he is—with what he does—I don’t think it’s very safe for you at home.”

“It’s fine. I can handle him. I’ve  _been_ handling him for years,” Jounouchi said dismissively. “But what I can’t handle is you getting hurt because of me, especially not by him, and that means you need to stay away from all of that. Forget the address, where it is . . . that it exists, even. Because I can’t always tell what he’ll do next, so there’s no way to know what kind of scene you might be walking in on . . . or what kind of scene you might be running  _out_ of. So it’s best to just avoid it altogether. Just forget about it, you know? Don’t worry about it. Let  _me_ worry about it, all right?” Yuugi was unconvinced, and this must have still shown on his face, for Jounouchi added, “Look, best you can do for me is keep being my friend outside of there. Give me something to look forward to when I leave that place each day, until we get to the point where I can leave for good. Deal?”

Yuugi was quiet for a moment, considering. He knew that Jounouchi had a couple of part time jobs, but even with those part time jobs Yuugi doubted that Jounouchi had enough money to move out, especially since he still had to spend a good chunk of the day in school and was a minor to boot. Then there was Jounouchi’s dad to consider, too; from the sound of things, Jounouchi was currently paying their rent and bills, and as much as Yuugi didn’t think that was very fair, Jounouchi seemed to feel some degree of responsibility, and getting him to drop that—at least at the moment—would be difficult. Yuugi thought he could ask his grandpa or mom what to do, maybe—see if they thought they should involve the police—but Jounouchi didn’t seem inclined to think about it, and even if they told the police, what would they do? With Jounouchi so close to graduating, Yuugi wasn’t sure if child protective services would get involved. Even if they would, why hadn’t they before now? Didn’t Jounouchi’s neighbors know what was going on?

There didn’t seem to be an easy answer, but as Yuugi thought through his options, he finally thought of a compromise he could live with. He looked up at Jounouchi and nodded.

“Deal,” he said, and as Jounouchi started to smile he added, “On one condition.”

Jounouchi’s smile faded. “What is it?”

“I know that you don’t like to talk about this, and that you can handle it. I believe you. But when things get bad there—when they get really bad, or when it’s harder to handle—you don’t have to tell me, but just . . . come over, okay? You don’t have to say why. Just come over and stay the night, or a couple nights, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what time it is, either, even if it’s really late. It’ll be okay, I promise. But just . . . don’t stay there when things get really bad. Come to my house instead. Let me help you at least that much.”

Jounouchi’s frown gained a shade of skepticism. “Somehow I don’t think your mom will be very cool with this,” he said.

“My mom will understand, and even if she doesn’t, my grandpa will. Not that I’ll tell them,” Yuugi said quickly, as Jounouchi opened his mouth, “at least not in so many words. But my grandpa really likes you, and my mom will warm up in time, too. I promise. And even if she doesn’t, that doesn’t really matter. You can always just climb in through my window if you need to, right? It’s not like we have to use the front door.”

Jounouchi laughed, and this time the sound was much closer to the warm, bright sound that Yuugi was familiar with. Despite the serious nature of their conversation, Yuugi felt a smile break on his own face. “That’s kinda . . . chick flick-y, don’t you think?” Jounouchi asked. “Climbing in through the window and stuff. Next thing you’ll say is I should throw rocks at it to let you know I’m coming up.”

“That might not be a bad idea,” Yuugi said, and Jounouchi rolled his eyes.

“Come on, we’re not really going there, are we?”

“Maybe. The door is still an option, but if you didn’t want my mom to know . . .” Yuugi shrugged, a teasing smile still on his face, but he only let it linger for a moment before he sobered. “But still, I mean it. When things get bad there . . . come over, okay? And in return, I promise not to visit your place, or push the subject, or go near your dad.” Yuugi paused, and then said, “Deal?”

Jounouchi watched him, his expression inscrutable, and as the seconds ticked by Yuugi thought he was going to say no. But finally Jounouchi smiled, small but warm, and Yuugi felt his heart lift.

“Deal,” Jounouchi said.

 


End file.
